Chapter 2: Paranoia

I just stood there for a moment, staring at my friend, the self-proclaimed "misanthrope" who still was somehow very helpful and even occasionally has given me wisdom. I was just astonished that he was here. So many thoughts, so many questions ran through my head. Most of all, though, I was relieved that he was alive, that he wasn't on that doomed flight. So I ran to him and flung my arms around his shoulders.

He immediately pushed me away. "Whoa! What was that?"

"I-I-I thought you were dead," I stammered.

"That's nothing. A lot of people think I'm dead. They don't usually hug me."

"It's just that every one else is dead: Mohinder, Peter, Hiro, Hanami . . ."

Monsieur Rains shrugged and said sarcastically, "Oob-la-dee, oob-la-dah, life goes on."

I couldn't think of a reply to that, so the other questions started spilling out. "What are you–how did you–why–how did you get in here?"

"I snuck past that pale bloke as he was holding the door open for the tall blonde lass."

"But how did you know I was here? I mean, you're not even supposed to be here! I could get in big trouble. Monsieur Broyles always says, 'One leak, and–'"

"Look, I was told you could help us. So can you help us or not?"

"Well, I want to, but . . . wait." There were a couple of questions that came from that statement. A big one was who told him I could help, but the one I asked first was, "What do you mean, 'us'?"

"Oh, did I not mention that I'm not alone?" He gestured to the back of Gene's stall.

I came closer and saw someone sleeping in the hay, a boy whom I recognized. "Thomas?"

"So, that's his name. He wouldn't tell me."

"He's the little brother of someone I used to work with. He has Fragile X Syndrome. I not sure if he's nonverbal or if he just doesn't like to talk."

"Yeah, I got that far."

"I usually see him sitting on the bridge at the pebble beaches at Nice, overlooking the sea. So, what's he doing here?"

I could barely believe what Monsieur Rains answered. "I saved his life."

"Saved his life? You mean . . . you rescued him? You, the misanthrope, the hater of humanity?"

"Oi, you don't know me as well as you think you do. I am complex, mate."

"OK, OK, it's just . . . there's something about this that makes it difficult to swallow. To start, I guess, what were you doing in Nice?"

"It wasn't at Nice. It was at London."

"Alright, then, what was he doing in London?"

"How should I know? One moment, I was minding my own business, the next this boy ran past me like he had the Devil on his heels. And as it turned out, he did."

"He . . . had a devil on his heels?"

Monsieur Rains rolled his eyes and sighed. "Right, you're so literal minded. They were a bunch of blokes in black jackets. They all had very specific guns. One of them had the exact same gun that I used to own."

"So they were from Northpoint!"

"Or some division of the Company, but it's not like them to be out in the open, in front of all to see. So I feared whatever they were up to affected me too. So I ran after him. That kid is quite a runner. He overtook several blocks without slowing down. Then they cornered him at the Thames, and he didn't think twice. He just jumped in. Then we all figured out that though he was a good runner, he wasn't a swimmer. There wasn't a single splash. I guess they decided that he drowned, because the whole company left, and as soon as they were out of sight, I plunged in after him. You know, he kinda struggled against me. I almost wondered if he wanted to be saved, but I brought back to the surface and got him breathing again. I asked who the men were, what they wanted, what his name was, but he wouldn't tell me a thing. And then the iPhone I nicked just a few days ago rang. It was a wonder it was still working after being plunged in water. I was about to hang up when it came up with a text. It read that there was a flight going to Boston leaving at noon with two vacant seats. If we took it, we would find help. With a few choice words, I replied asking who this was and how he got this number, and I got an answer almost instantly. And . . . well, have a look."

He dialed up the message and handed the phone. I read aloud, "'I know exactly who you are, Claude. And I am your ally. I am sending you to Gabe Bonhomme, who can save you. –Rebel' Wait . . . Rebel!"

"You know him?"

"No, but a friend of mine mentioned getting a message from Rebel. So, he told you how to find me?"

"Right."

"How does he know?"

"Well, it's obvious, isn't it? We're dealing with Big Brother here! He's everywhere, watching us. No telling if he's on our side."

"Sounds like he is. He says he wants to help, but if wanted to help me, he would not endanger my job, my confidentiality. OK, I think I can explain Thomas. I went into quite a diatribe with my boss yesterday about bringing in more autistic people with powers. You, on the other hand, need to lay low."

Monsieur Rains loudly chuckled. "'Lay low,' he says. What have I been doing for these past ten years?"

"Oh . . . right. Well, at least you know how to do it. I'll get you some food. You can probably keep Gene company."

He laughed again. "Gene? You know it's a female."

"I didn't name her. Dr. Bishop did."

Suddenly, his tone changed to more concern. "Bishop?"

"Yes, and I don't like it. Gene is short for Eugene, which came from the same word as Eugenics."

"You don't mean . . . Walter Bishop?"

"That's right. Why, do you know him?"

"What's he doing out of the loony bin?"

"He's not really crazy. I think he's misdiagnosed."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that."

"Well, his son got him out. I don't know the whole story, but he's working with the FBI now, like I am."

He shook his head. "Strange world." He fell backward into the hay. "I'm not very hungry now, just tired. Jet lag, you know."

"I guess I'll let you sleep."

"Alright."

I was about to leave, but I stopped and smiled. "You know, I am really glad to see you here. Because there's something I wanted to ask you for a very long time, something important."

"Well, what are you standing there for talking about it? Ask or don't!"

Probably his frustration created a blank in my mind. "I can't remember. I'll ask you when I think about it."

Mr. Parkman drew lots of pretty pictures. Hanami drew some, too. Uncle Hiro gave her pink clothes to wear. He was very sad and worried about her. She heard him say to Mr. Mohinder that he was going to do everything to protect her, and he said that this was not a safe place for her. But she wasn't scared. She remembered Mr. Mohinder and Mr. Parkman, and they were nice. They wouldn't let her get hurt.

Mr. Mohinder and Uncle Hiro came closer. "Do you have any idea what they mean?" Mr. Mohinder said.

She looked over to see the pictures Mr. Parkman was drawing. "Gabriel!" she cried out.

Uncle Hiro picked it up. "That is Gabriel."

"But he wasn't even on the plane," Mr. Mohinder said.

"This is probably somewhere at Harvard University."

"Alright, this is nuts," Mr. Parkman said. "I don't want this!"

"You have mine?" Hanami said, giving him her picture.

Mr. Parkman took it and smiled. "Thanks, Honey." That almost sounded like her name.

"Matt, they will find us here. We have to go," Mr. Mohinder said.

"But if these visions are real, Daphne's in trouble. I have to get back!" He ran away.

"That's insane! Those men will kill you!"

"I'm not going to leave her!"

They ran after him to the tall hill. That's where Hanami was scared. She was with Uncle Hiro and she saw Mr. Masahashi, Mr. Mohinder, Mr. Parkman, and that funny woman that ran very fast who she couldn't remember her name, and the cheerleader. Everybody got together, so happy, and then the cheerleader said, "Guys, we gotta get out of here!"

"She's right. I can't carry all these people at once," the funny lady said.

"Nemesis," Uncle Hiro said, "please take Hanami to Harvard University. Look for Gabriel."

"Gabriel!" the cheerleader suddenly said. "Good, he's got . . . wait, tell him never to surrender his amnesty, no matter what! They're gonna try and make him give it up."

The funny lady nodded. "Alright, I'll do it. I'll tell him. Just give me a minute to–"

"DAPHNE!" Mr. Parkman yelled.

But then, there was a loud sound, like thunder. When she heard it, the funny lady fell down. The cheerleader pushed Hanami into a rock. The sound just wouldn't stop! Hanami didn't know where it came from. She covered her ears and started to cry, "Make it stop! Make it stop!"

And then a very scary man who looked like a skeleton came down to her. "I'll make it stop," he said in Hanami's language. Then he pointed a very scary black thing at her.

"No!" the cheerleader yelled and ran in between them. The scary man smiled, gestured to the cheerleader with the black thing, and led her away.

"Hanami, over here! Let's go!" Uncle Hiro called. Hanami followed.

Late the next morning, I walked with Wiki to lunch. The moment I caught up to his stride, I said, "Tell me about Rebel."

He did not look at me but replied rather quickly, "A rebel is a participant in a rebellion, one who resists authority. Disambiguation: Rebel Without a Cause–film starring Jimmy Dean, 'Rebel Yell'–hit song by Billy Idol, The Fairy Reb–"

"Non, non, non, Wiki, I wasn't making an inquiry. I was asking you about the person who sent you that message yesterday. Is there anything you can tell me about him, or her?"

Wiki shook his head in frustration, "I know absolutely nothing. All I can tell you is that I saw the message in my head. It told me to say it out loud to you."

"Is there anyway you can communicate with Rebel?"

"If I knew where it was coming from, maybe. It looks like a chatroom, but I can't make out the URL."

"Well, if you ever find a way, let me know. I have a few questions for him."

"What do you want to know?"

I didn't answer right away because I wanted to find someway to phrase it.

"What do you want to know, Gabe?"

I don't know what it was, but the way he said that told me it was not from him. So I stopped and looked him in the eye. He looked very confused. "How do you know all this?"

Wiki didn't answer for a moment, but then he said in a rather stilted voice, "The FBI isn't as secret as it thinks it is. I have access to security cameras, live feeds from computers, everything."

"You're a hacker!"

"You can say that. But don't worry. Your secret is safe with me. I will only divulge it if needed."

"No, that's not good enough! One leak, and I'm finished."

"It has to be, Gabe. You have amnesty. We have to make sacrifices. We're all fighting a battle, and no one likes to be defeated. I refuse to lose."

"Whose side are you on?"

"Whose side are you on?" Then, Wiki blinked a couple of times, shook his head, and walked away. I caught up to him, but he didn't say anything.

I convinced Dr. Bishop to run some tests on Thomas. Everyone seemed very unconvinced that he had "empathetic synesthesia," or the ability to affect others' senses, but I knew that was his power. Dr. Bishop was particularly fascinated when I described how fast Thomas ran from the police, mentioning that patients with Fragile X syndrome were usually flat-footed. I have no idea where he got that information, but he seemed to think that it was more likely Thomas had super-speed. He had Thomas running on a treadmill most of the time. I wanted to test Wiki too, but he had seemed distant all day.

In the evening, I bought an extra pizza and drink, took it back with me to the lab, and gave it to Monsieur Rains. It was clear he was hungry then because he devoured it. He was also in an uncommonly good mood, well, for him.

"Did you sleep well?" I asked.

"Well, it's very cold, the floor's hard, and the room smells like chemicals and cow you-know-what. So what do you think?"

I chuckled. "Je suis tres desole," I apologized. "I wish I could get you a dorm room. Those are rather nice."

"Believe it or not, I've had much worse. I slept in a graveyard once."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I was in a trickster phase. Nothing more I loved than playing 'Ghost,' especially on cold, misty autumn evenings."

"Even then, you didn't sleep well?"

"I haven't slept well in years. It actually has nothing to do with the surroundings."

"Really?"

"So," Monsieur Rains suddenly said loudly, "what brings you to the second-best university in the world?"

I laughed. "Second?"

"Of course, everyone knows the greatest university was, is, and always will be Oxford."

"I suppose that's where you went?"

"For a time, yes, and you can't really argue against the school where Shakespeare attended."

"True. Well, I actually finished my university education, but I'm auditing some courses to say that I attended here, to improve my resume, you see."

"So, what's your favorite?"

"Oh," I shook my head. "I hate picking favorites. I love them all. Well, I guess my favorite class is an unofficial independent study in understanding nonverbal communication." I pulled out of my backpack one of my Lightman books, Lies We Tell.

"Ah," Monsieur Rains said as he took the book out of my hands. He turned it over to the black-and-white portrait of the author and said in a James Bond villain kind of voice, "We meet again, Dr. Lightman."

"You know him?"

"Not personally, no, but Noah Bennet was obsessed with him! Back when we were working together, he read Dr. Cal Lightman's dissertation cover to cover. And then when he became more noteworthy, Noah got all his books and attended a couple of his lectures. He told me that I looked a lot like him, when I'm visible of course. It's probably because he's another Brit. I told him I was better looking and taller. Well . . . the latter's still true."

"Well, that's cool. I ought to ask him about what he knows next time I see him. Maybe he could help me."

"Whoa. Wait right there. Do you know why Noah was so interested in Dr. Lightman's research?"

"So he could tell when people were lying? He'd probably need it in this business."

"Not as much as you'd think. No, actually, he was trying to learn the tricks of the trade himself. He wanted to learn all the dead giveaways that one was lying so that he wouldn't do them. Essentially, he wanted to learn to be the world's best liar. That way, he could get away with his life without his wife of his loved ones knowing all the terrible things he was doing, and no one would be the wiser."

"So, how do you trust him?"

"Oh, that's easy. Don't."

"But, what if–?"

"DON'T!" I watched as he pronounced that word very precisely. "If you want to be safe, never believe a word that falls from his lips. There is no way to tell when he's telling the truth and when he's not. Once you trust him, he's gotcha. Take it from someone who knows, someone who learned the hard way."

I didn't want to believe him. The spy has proven to be my friend. He has helped me out of some dangerous situations, and he's been very kind. His daughter is very kind. Yet, still, he was a spy. And what Monsieur Rains said was true. Spies aren't trustworthy. These words were put to the test the next day.

Hanami rode with Uncle Hiro and Mr. Masahashi in the back of a truck, which was very fun. When they got off, there was a rope swing. Hanami began to swing on it. Mr. Mohinder and Mr. Parkman were there, and then Mr. Petrelli flew in. "Toss your cell phones!" he said. "This is the last time we get together to use these things. If we can find each other, so can they. I figure we have fifteen minutes."

"Understood," Mr. Mohinder said. "You need to see these." He showed Mr. Petrelli Mr. Parkman's pictures.

"Where'd you get these?"

"Matt drew them after the crash. He has Isaac's gift." He handed one picture to Uncle Hiro. "I recognize this building, the Divya Velukkai, New Delhi."

"The warrior must have a sword. I must regain my powers. It is my destiny to go there!" Uncle Hiro said bravely. "But something needs to be done about Hanami. I am worried. This is not safe for her. Where is that picture of her?"

Mr. Mohinder flipped through the pictures. "Here it is." It was a picture of Hanami standing in front of a building with many columns as Gabriel held her shoulders.

"I know where Gabriel is," Uncle Hiro said. "I was talking with him on the phone the other day. He's at Harvard University, his new job. But I don't know this place."

"It's Widener Library," Mr. Petrelli said. "I used to meet Nathan there sometimes."

"Will you take her there?"

"I will. What's Gabriel's job? How'd he get out of this?"

"Claire said something about am-nes-ty. He wouldn't tell me much, but he said he worked for the American government."

"The government? Well, are you sure he's on our side?"

"I don't know. I'd like to think so."

"There are a lot of things I'd like to think, but I don't have that luxury anymore. Let's get one things straight. Our lives as we knew them are over. We can't go back to anything that we knew."

"Then what do we do?" Mr. Masahashi asked.

"We bring the fight to them, with everything we've got," Mr. Parkman answered.

"It won't be easy," Mr. Petrelli said. "Credit cards, bank accounts, they're gone. Homes are going to be watched, can't trust the phones. We gotta find a way to defend ourselves. We leave everything. We do what it takes to survive, things we can't even imagine. Remember, they're gonna come for us, and when that day comes, we have to be ready."

Those kinds of things made Hanami very scared, but everyone nodded. Uncle Hiro hugged Hanami. "Be safe, little one. Say hello to Gabriel for me."

"Hai," she nodded.

"Come on, Hanami, on my back," Mr. Petrelli said. He knelt down, and Hanami got on top of his back. "Hold on, nice and tight. OK, here we go." Then, he flew. That was probably the most fun of all.

I was one of the first people to get to the cafeteria for breakfast. I got a tray with omelette, fruit, and coffee. I sat alone and opened Lies We Tell to a chapter about microexpressions when someone joined me. I looked up and saw him smile. "Hi, Gabriel."

"Spy! What are you doing here?"

He continued to grin as he stirred his coffee. "I heard you were a student here, and thought I'd drop by to see you."

"I heard you were in that crash. So, you survived."

He nodded. "Yes, I did."

"And your daughter?"

He didn't answer but looked down for a moment. "What's that you're reading?" He picked up the book. "Oh, Dr. Cal Lightman! I used to be a big fan. Don't think I've read this one."

"It's the newest one. You know, I heard you studied him at great length. Maybe you can help me with some of the things he teaches."

"I wouldn't get too deep into this, Gabriel."

"Call me Gabe, please."

"Sorry, Gabe. He went through a rather nasty divorce. It's my understanding that he noticed lies everywhere and therefore didn't trust his wife. It's pretty sad actually."

"Well still, I must learn something. Something is better than nothing. I can't recognize nonverbal communication! Someone has to teach me."

"You know, that's kinda what I wanted to talk to you about. See, I've been thinking about what you said to me that last time we talked, about how normal doesn't exist. And I've been thinking, maybe you're right. There are so many . . . unusual people in this world, people with abilities, people with disabilities, other races, other cultures. It's so diverse. Who am I to think that normalcy exists?"

I nodded, "Exactly."

"And you know, I think it would do a lot of good if you taught more people this message."

"You want me to go out and teach people?"

"Better yet, set yourself up as an example. Show the world that you may not be normal, but you're still unique, still fascinating. You are really part of the norm. I can get you on television, radio, internet, anywhere where you can tell your story and motivate people like you everywhere. What do you say?"

He held out his hand I looked very closely at his face for microexpressions, but he made none. His face seemed full of warmth and kindness. But I still wasn't sure if he was telling the truth. Monsieur Rains's warning rang in my head, and I thought about running away immediately.

"Go on, Gabe. You know me. You can trust me."

I stood up, still not sure what to do. I even started reaching out my hand, but at that moment it was grabbed. "Gabe, come on! We'll be late for class!" Wiki dragged me after him, and as we got farther away from the cafeteria, he broke into a run.

"What's wrong?" I asked. "Class isn't for another hour!"

"Rebel says he came here to convince you to give up your amnesty. He was going to take you away!" he answered. I was astounded by that. So, Monsieur Rains was right! And I almost fell for it, too.

It was night when Mr. Petrelli stopped and let Hanami down. "Here you go. I'll wait to see Gabriel come get you. Now, don't tell him I'm the one who brought you here, and if he or anyone else tries to take you away, run as fast as you can. Understand me?"

"Hai," Hanami answered, nodding. Mr. Petrelli hid behind a bench, and Hanami stood alone. No one else was there, except for a strange man wearing a hat. He was also watching Hanami, and he wouldn't stop. Hanami very cautiously went up to him. "Hello," she said.

"Hello," he said.

"Do you know Gabriel?"

"Yes."

I was reeling about what happened in the cafeteria this morning. That evening, I thought about reading my mother's diary to get perspective on it. You see, Mama passed away when I was still an infant, but I have her diary. When I read it, I can actually see what happened in her life. A month before she died, she came with me to America and met with her aunt and uncle, the Petrellis. She also saw Hiro's parents and Monsieur Rains, so she must have–wait a minute! I grabbed the diary and went straight to the lab. "I remember what it was I wanted to ask you," I said.

"Took you long enough," Monsieur Rains sneered.

I crouched down on my knees and looked him in the eye. "What did you read in my mother's diary?"

He laughed obliviously. "And who is your mother?"

"Don't pretend you don't know." I tossed the diary over to him. His expression changed almost to the same look of fear I saw in him when he first opened the book. "Almost twenty years ago on a rainy night, you gave this to my Great Aunt Angela Petrelli. It was recently handed down to me."

"Well, I'll tell you exactly what I told her."

I said it with him, "You're smart. You can read, can't you?"

"So, you know."

"She told me. But I can't read it. Every time I try, I see random images. I can't focus. I can't see ink or pencil or paper or words. It just keeps coming at me, all these pictures from the past and the future. I don't know what she's trying to tell me!" He just stared at me, and I said with some exasperation, "You see, I don't read it the same way you do. When I open it, I see her life. I live it with her. I hear her have conversations she didn't even write down."

"You think that's because of some sort of mother/son bond?"

"I don't know what it is. It could be my autism or my reading ability gone amuck."

He shook his head. "It's not just you, Gabriel." He sighed and looked away. "I made a mistake. I thought she was like her aunt, a prophetess. I was just curious. I was watching her write so feverishly in that book. I wondered what all the fuss was about. Hindsight being 20/20, I should have remembered that she just tried to kill herself because the vision she saw was too bleak." He paused and looked at me. "She was more than a prophetess. That book breathes. I swear it had a pulse. It probably bleeds ink if you tore a page. That may have frightened me more than anything. As for what I saw . . . well, I'm not a saint, or a poet. I can't put words to it. But I'll tell you this, Gabriel. It changed me. You see, for days afterword, I had nightmares of what I saw. Every night, I'd wake in a cold sweat, my throat sore from screaming. I even asked the Haitian to take thoughts out of my head so that I could get a decent night's rest, and he said he couldn't do it. He told me that it was like they were branded on my brain. It's probably the only time he ever spoke to me."

"Is that why you became a misanthrope?"

"No, far from it. You see, before then, I was much like Noah. 'Yes, sir, no, sir, I was only following orders.' My loyalty was entirely to the Company. I thought we were doing great things. But then I became more sensitive to the terrible things we were doing. Then I started working behind their backs, hiding people, becoming connected with them. I started becoming a misanthrope the day I understood I was the only one who cared, and then I started seeing how people really are and began to realize that they're not worth it. But every time I feel that way . . . I have nightmares again. The brand is still there. You ask me why I save lives even when I say I hate people? That's why. This is probably the last thing I should ever say to you, but . . . " He sighed and concluded, "Your mother ruined me!"

I would have said something, but just then, there was a knock at the door. I got up and answered it. "Wiki? What are you doing here?"

He was standing there with a very strange look on his face. It was like confusion and maybe a little fear. "Go to Widener Library," he said.

"Why?"

"I don't know. Rebel just told me to tell you to go to Widener Library." Then he blinked and added, "Someone's waiting there for you."

"Who?"

Wiki shook his head, but then he answered, "See for yourself."

So I went to Widener Library, and I could not believe my eyes. There she was standing in pink pajamas all alone. "Hanami? You're . . . you're alive?" I knelt down and put my hands on her shoulders to see if she was real. The moment my hands touched her, she glowed a brilliant yellow. "You are alive! You're here!" I hugged her, but she did not hug back. "Oh, how did you get here?"

She shook her head. "Can't say."

I nodded slowly. "Oh. That's alright. It doesn't matter. What matters is you're here, and you're OK. Hanami, what about your Uncle? Did he survive? What about Peter Petrelli or Mohinder?"

But she didn't answer. She just looked away. I took that to mean that they didn't make it. I hugged her again. "Oh, Hanami."

One she pulled away, she looked at me and said, "Gabriel, never surrender your amnesty, no matter what! They're gonna try and make you give it up."

I don't know how she knew about that, or if she even knew what amnesty was, but I looked at her. "Is it that bad, Hanami?"

"Our lives as we knew them are over. We can't go back to anything that we knew. Homes are going to be watched, can't trust the phones. We leave everything. We do what it takes to survive, things we can't even imagine. Remember, they're gonna come for us, and when that day comes, we have to be ready."

"Where did you hear that?"

But she wouldn't say. I held her hand and pulled her to my heart. "Oh, Hanami, we are in trouble." Thinking about what she just told me and everything that morning, I called Agent Dunham and asked her to take me straight to Agent Broyles. I went into his office holding Hanami's hand. "Agent Broyles, this is Hanami Nakamura. She survived the plane crash."

"How did she come here?" he asked.

"I don't know. She won't tell me."

"Can she talk?"

"Yes."

"Then she can tell you."

"Look, that's not why I came here. Save what you are doing and turn off your computer."

"Why?"

"Also turn off your cellphone, and if there's a security camera in here, shut it off. Someone is watching us through the electronics, and I want what I say next to be completely private."

"How do you know that?"

"I'll explain later."

So he shut off his computer and all other electronics, then turned to me. "Alright, what is it?"

"You were right. They are doing all they can to get to me. Somehow, they are trying to take away my amnesty so that they can take me away. The danger is not only to me but to my friends. Therefore, I have decided to stay where I know I am safe. From now on, I am not leaving the lab without an escort, and I will only leave for the basic necessities. I think it would be best if my friends stayed with me."

"The lab is not a motel. Where will you sleep?"

"On the floor, the counters, I was particularly thinking of the tank. I don't have to get set up for an experiment to sleep there."

"I don't like this, Mr. Bonhomme. I believe you are abusing your privilege."

"But this is an extreme circumstance. This is a battle, and we can't be defeated. More lives will be lost."

I talked with him for a little longer, and he reluctantly decided to give me my request. And that is when the refuge began. Agent Dunham and Peter Bishop helped get us situated. I got a few essentials from my room and went to the lab.

I remember that night. It was dark; we only had the moonlight in the window for light. I put my pillow right into the tank and was about to step in when I heard a strange groan.

"What?" Agent Dunham slowly walked toward where the sound was coming from–Gene the cow. "Is something wrong with Gene?"

I followed her to the stall, and I saw Monsieur Rains tossing and turning nearby. I knew she couldn't see him, so I just said, "I'll look into it later." Even when I got into the tank and closed the door behind me, I could still hear his groans. A couple of times, I think he even yelled, "No!"

To be continued . . .